A Crossing of Man and the Gods
by Terrehbau5
Summary: (MCR-Frerard)Frank Iero finds himself alone, and restless in a dying town. Dead end job, dead beat acquaintances. Everything about his life, and his understanding of the world changes when he meets Gerard Way, someone who holds more power than almost anyone in the universe. Is this man a blessing or a death sentence?
1. Chapter 1

___**Chapter 1: Town of Skeletons**_

It's hot today. Too hot for early April, at about 75 degrees (Fahrenheit.) Well, no so much hot as it is humid and mucky. The air sticking to your skin like a thin layer of Vaseline. The sun poured its bright light all over the town of framework and rubble. Collapsed and uninhabitable buildings, ones in the process of being built crowded the streets that packed a punch to anyone who stops and thinks of what the future did to the past. Not one building rattier than the next (thank whatever God was involved in that miracle.) For a town that was in the process of being modernized, this is still a rancid hell hole. Litter was more prevalent than grass, and this place has a population composed of scumbag after scumbag after asshole scumbag. Drug dealers and their worshipping addicts, pimps and their loyal whores. Everyone in this town has some skeletons in the closet, some more deformed than others.

I'm happy to say the worst thing I've ever done is tune school completely out, and call my step-father a cock-munch once or twice. In comparison to the general track record for people who call this place home, my history is spotless. No drugs, no STDs, no alcohol, no stealing, nothing. I am essentially a patrician among these parts, a nobleman. I just need to become rich, famous, and popular, and I'll start my own aristocracy.

I work at Boyd's Produce, one of the many run down mom and pop stores that infested this town like cockroaches in an apartment in Detroit. You know the place. Well, probably not specifically, but it's that mom and pop store you go to when you're too pressed for time to go to a store that sells quality products. That store where you're just about positive they're paying off the health inspector, but until they admit to it, it doesn't concern you all too much. Poor lighting that flickers at random intervals, dingy concrete floors, a low ceiling scarred by water damage. That is my place of employment.

_As it has been for the last three years._

This is where you picture an angst filled 19 year old sighing in his beat up faded navy blue Suburban, with the air conditioner blowing in his face. He's got short bottle black hair, a nose ring, lip ring, and a couple scattered tattoos. With the dark gray puddled under his bright hazel eyes, you're not sure if he's wearing eyeliner or not, but he probably is. He's got on a black band shirt with whatever was printed on it has faded and hardly resembles what it used to. Torn dark blue skinny jeans and ugly beat up sneakers.

_Got all that?_

Good, because that guy is me. I happen to be sitting in my car, waiting for my clock to tell me it's 8:20 am and I need to be in there, in my uniform (also known as an ugly maroon smock, itchy khakis, and a forest green polo), and working. It is hot out today and this god-forsaken building that -of course, has no AC. Boss can spend money on meth (the good stuff, I've seen him wired), but he can't spare a little money for at least a fan. After all that sexual harassment you figure he'd try and make good with me by giving in to at least one of my (many) complaints.

_8:16 am_

It doesn't really matter very much; I'll just hang out in the freezer section and pretend to be stocking up or something. It's not like I'd jump at the opportunity to work the register. I'm sick of idiots that are coming down from a couple day high spilling something on me, or the area I have to work at for the remainder of the day. When I said this town is full of druggies, I meant it. Everyone I know is on something; glass, coke, PCP, Heroin.

_Vices left virtues in the dust._

Mood; Sad, lonely, upset, empty. It dawns upon me this is just going to be another day I spend alone, eat alone, watch TV alone, and sleep alone. I want to do something. This purgatory will be the death of me. I'm caught in a whirlwind of absolutely nothing. Soul crushing blankness and I can't escape. I can't make friends; they're all addicted to drugs. They'd probably sell me for an eight ball, and if they were a loyal friend, well you know. My luck dictates they'd die the minute I became attached to them, or the second I decided they were someone I wanted to have in my life. Maybe I'd get sucked into the drugs, too.

Sometimes I wonder if I'd be worth it. Euphoria must be better than this feeling, and I'm not even sure what this feeling is, if it's anything at all. It's empty, and it hurts. Like someone hollowed me out and only left my restless bones. I want to explore, and feel passion. I want to get caught up in something crazy. I want to be out all the time, doing things that make me look back and just be able to uttera content sigh, and sleep at night without thinking I'm fucking missing something. I want to love, I want to be loved, I want to share with someone, and I want more. I want to start living.

_8:18am_

The radio buzzes softly in the background as I glance at the clock. I'm trying to not look at it, because you know what they say. A watched pot never boils. However in this case, the pot decides to boil whenever it's good and ready, even though 60 seconds feels like ten minutes in here. Staring at a clock is like flipping an hourglass in zero gravity.

_8:20_

Fuck. I don't want to go. I want to stay in my car and nap, not go spend eight hours making a little better than minimum wage working with perverts and idiots, and having to work _for_ a bunch of drugged up inbred shitheads. Who are they to get hooked on drugs and fuck up my day like they do? I just want one day with normal, friendly people that don't make me want to go commit mass fucking murder.

_But I suppose a little courtesy or respect for those around you is too fucking much to ask._

My brain convinces my muscles to get out of the car, and begin the dreaded walk to the building. Stepping out of the door, work clothes in a jumbled up lump, I grabbed my phone and slammed the door. A crash of a car door was generally the signal of my arrival. Partly out of being grumpy, and partly from my car being a piece of shit. I tripped slightly up the curb in front of the employee entrance. Of course, I had dropped my clothes on the ground. "Fucking hell." I grumbled myself, collecting my things and adjusting my shirt which had become crooked from me bending over. I brushed off my pile of things, and pushed the employee door open with my left shoulder.

A humidity worse than outside hit me and stuck like a thick dirty blanket. The moist hot air made the smell in this joint even worse, and I was hoping that that wouldn't be possible. I groaned loudly, scrunching my face in protest of my senses being assaulted. My groan was answered by a "oh god, its you." from the floor.

"Yes Andrew, it's me." I sighed loudly enough to be heard. I slipped into the bathroom before changing, knowing he'd soon come in and fill me in on his night of clubbing, bar hopping, or whatever stupid story about his life he had. I didn't believe him, of course. It was always one of those tales a 'bro' would try and use to convince his other bros that he was alpha bro or whatever the fuck kind of social status they'd try and gain from being a man-whore, or even worse lying about being a total man-whore. It wasn't even the lying I had a problem with, it's the fact that they're too caught up in being better than everyone else that they make up a self that they'd rather show everyone. It's this pride in a false self, almost like narcissistic cowardice, to a degree that nearly makes me sick.

I locked the door behind me just as a precaution, I didn't think he'd follow me, but you can never be too safe. After I heard the click of the lock, Andrew opened the door to the employee room (it functioned as a small locker room, kind of) and he chuckled lightly, like a father about to regale his son about the time he had his first kiss.

"You would not believe the time I had last night." He sighed contently as I heard him lean against one of the shaky metal lockers.

"You're completely right, I probably wouldn't." I nodded to myself, slipping off my shirt and replacing it with my disgusting forest green polo. It wasn't disgusting in a sense that it was icky and went unwashed, because that's the complete opposite of the truth. I washed it all the time, it just feels itchy and the color is horrible. I pinned my name tag to the upper left side of my shirt, and waited for Andrew to continue.

"Ah-ha-ha! Typical Frank! Quick as a motherfucking bullet!" He said loudly, obviously not understanding I was completely serious in that I probably would not believe him, unless of course he told me a story about how hard he was tripping on some acid. That was completely believable and not at all something I'd put past him. "Dude, there were these three blonde babes." He paused for a moment. "Well you wouldn't think they're babes because you like dick and all. Anyway, these three gorgeous babes at Crawl..." Crawl was a local scumfuck watering hole. It was a nice bar, but you couldn't exactly say the same for the patrons. "...And they were all giving me bedroom eyes, looking me over like I was a bar of chocolate or some shit."

"Really?" I said adding a pinch of insincere interest as I dropped my jeans to the floor and replaced them with my khakis. I realized I forgot my work shoes and just put my ratty Nike's on, figuring no one would care since I plan on hiding out in the warehouse all day.

"Yeah." He said, drawing out the 'ah' part to the point I felt embarrassed for him. I could almost hear the smile creak on his lips before he uttered whatever he was going to say next. _Blah blah blah, let me take them home, blah blah blah awesome once in a life time foursome, pause, or would that be an orgy, pause, either way still awesome, blah blah blah, they want me to call them, blah blah blah._ "They all gave me their numbers. We might hook up again soon. You want me to see if they've got a gay friend you can nail? Or get nailed by." He said, trailing off. "I'm not sure what you're into."

I swear every time I talk to this guy my sexuality is brought up into the conversation like it's something abnormal, or something unusual that needs to be discussed. I tucked my shirt in and threw my maroon smock that read "Boyd's" across the midsection on, and walked out of the bathroom. Andrew looked different. He had a pale slender face and light brown freckles sprinkled all over his cheeks and nose. His shoulder length light brown hair seemed like it was what was making him look different. He probably got a haircut.

"You don't have to know what I'm into; it's no business of yours." I finally grumbled after my inspection of my co-worker. I rolled my eyes and walked past him into the store itself. Cue the light flicker, and the splash of a puddle that had formed from a section of leaky ceiling. I grimaced as my head snapped downwards toward my foot to inspect the damage to my already damaged shoes. I let out a quiet sound of lament, because I had now gotten water in my shoes. That's going to be horribly uncomfortable, and I don't have a change of socks of shoes. I heard a 'bing-bong' at the entrance. Our first crack head of the day, fan-fucking-tastic.

"Sorry, forgot to warn you about that puddle." Andrew said, pushing past me to get to the register.

Once again, I rolled my eyes in response. I tried my best to slither to the back to the warehouse before anyone even noticed I was here. If they knew I was here, they'd probably ask me for help, and I'd rather not help. Everyday seems to not be my day, and today seems a little worse than usual. It's hot, my clothes are itchy, my shoes are wet, and Andrew put me in a worse humor than I was already in.

I opened the door to the warehouse, and began to move around some boxes to make it look like I'm actually doing something productive,or at the very least something that qualifies as work. If the manager –Phil, came in he'd probably get pissed and give me a hard time, but it'd probably keep him from trying to fondle my ass. That is certainly a deal if there has ever been one.

I should file sexual harassment charges or something. I would file sexual harassment charges -or something, if circumstances were different. I just don't want to lose my job, or have this guy beat me within an inch of my life if they couldn't send him to jail, or they only fined him and let him get away with feeling me up or trying to get me to sleep with him. He wasn't bad looking, he just wasn't my type. He had short hair, a typical guy cut. His hair was dark brown with a couple of lighter brown highlights running through it. They weren't those obnoxiously loud and bright highlights everyone gets because they have zero taste. I'm assuming his are natural because they change from winter to summer. He was well built, muscular enough for it to be noticeable but not totally repulsive. He stood at about 6'4", towering over me by at least a foot.

I also couldn't afford to lose my job. My mom was diagnosed with cancer about six months ago and anything I have left over after rent, groceries and gas goes into her treatment and recovery. It's not that she doesn't have sufficient funds; I just want to help as much as I possibly can. I can deal with being eye fucked and groped like the produce in a grocery store as long as it's helping my mom get better, or at least making her more comfortable. Her husband hardly wants to associate himself with me because I haven't gone to college, have no plans to go to college, and didn't exactly pass high school with flying colors. He's the one paying for her medical expenses, but I figure if I make it known I'd like to help and I am a productive human being he won't be so cold to me anymore.

I was snapped out of my reverie of sorts (reverie generally indicates a pleasant state of being lost in your thoughts, and let's face it, things up here aren't too pleasant) when Andrew walks in, his rat-like face peering around. I figure he's looking for me, so I'll make this interesting. I hid behind a large stack of boxes, and I could hear him shuffle around because he knows I'm in here, and he knows he just heard me move.

"Frank? Where are you dude?" He called, and I detected a slight hint of fear in his voice. He probably thought the warehouse was haunted or that there was a burglar back here, or something else that was really stupid and unwarranted. To continue to hide or not to hide, that is the question.

I decided against continuing to hide, because I would run out of places to hide. Chances are he'd see me moving from place to place. I stepped out from behind the large stack. I tried to make it look as if I had just been busy doing something, and not playing a stupid spur of the moment game.

"Yes?" I asked. After some time to myself, I had lost a little of my beginning of the day irritation. Andrew wasn't that bad, for the most part. I just don't like his stories and his incessant chattering.

"Come out to the registers. I hate being out there by myself, and if someone needs to be there to show people stuff." He stated, throwing his arms to his sides casually.

"Show people stuff?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow. Don't tell me he doesn't know where anything is and that is what he needs me out there for.

"You know where everything here is. You've worked here for like three years." He said, his eyes growing slightly wide like it's only my job to know where shit is.

"You've worked here for five!" I said my voice getting a tad louder, unable to believe this guy. "That's the only thing you need to be able to do to work here!"

"Remembering is hard when all I do is stand around at the registers while the others on my shift play hide and seek in the stock room." He stated flatly, raising an eyebrow slightly in addition to a subtle shrug.

I immediately groaned in response. "It's Friday, tomorrow is my day off, I don't want to talk to people, I don't want to work with people, I don't want to think about people." I grumbled indignantly.

"Well I'm sorry you picked today to play misanthrope..." I see that word of the day calendar I bought you for secret Santa has paid off. "...but you're at work now."

My eyes narrowed at him, and my eyebrows furrowed to muster the best look of 'shut your mouth' I possibly could. I knew I had just lost, but I'd rather look like an ass trying to justify my constant irritation than look like an ass by admitting to being wrong in my attitude. I have this funny habit of not quitting while I'm ahead. "Fine." I sighed. "Whatever, I'll hang out with you by the registers."

A solid three hours later no one had set foot in the store since that first person when we first opened up. Andrew and I wound up playing catch with a pack of gum behind the registers. He's actually not too bad in conversation, granted you don't mind someone with the intellect of a 10th grade drop out. I'm not saying dropping out of high school makes you a bad person though I don't think dropping out of school is good. I'm sure Andrew didn't drop out he just –as aforementioned, had the intellect of a person you'd assume had all of 80 brain cells and decided to give up on education half way through high school.

Throughout the next five hours, we got our regular amount of customers, which was somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty. It was about twenty minutes before closing time, and I was packing my stuff up, and cleaning up some of the dirt people had tracked in. I was sweeping lazily, and just pushing the pile of dirt into a corner, and tucking it away under a rug. I believe I deserve a spot on the wall for employee of the month, don't you agree?

"Hey, Frank." I heard Andrew call once again.

"Yes?" I replied, turning around to face him. He had his jacket on (which made no sense because there was hardly a chill in the air) and was obviously about ready to start locking up.

"Do you have a fake ID?" He grilled, scoping out the room as he asked as if there was someone in there that would hear him ask.

"I've got one lying around somewhere." I shrugged. In this town, everyone had a fake ID, whether or not they used it was a different story. I only used mine so I could go to bars and eat bar food. Eggplant fries are really good with a veggie burger, deep fried and greasier than a mechanic's hands. Now I feel a small rumbling in my stomach, I think I'm going to pig out when I get home.

"Let's go to a club tonight then." He suggested. "I'm in need of a wingman anyway…" I bet you are. "…Maybe we can find you a boy toy, or whatever you're into."

Getting sick of this 'whatever you're into' shit, I sighed and raised an eyebrow, completely underwhelmed. "A club? Really?" I scoffed in response to his proposal.

"Sure, I don't see why not. You don't get out much anyway." He shrugged, zippering his jacket up.

"Yes, and there is a reason for that." I protested.

"Don't be such a downer, man. You need to loosen up." He said, and I could tell he knew I wasn't convinced. "Listen, if you don't like it, you can leave."

I let out a long sigh, and pinched the bridge of my nose with my pointer finger and thumb. I thought for a moment or two. A majority of me wanted to say no and tell him that he'd have a better chance of seeing a pig flying around in a frozen hell, but there was a faint voice inside me that said I should go. It said I don't get out much, and I'm growing lonelier as time goes on. My arm fell to my side; I raised my shoulder and inhaled deeply.

"Fine, Andrew." I groaned.

_I guess this means I'm going clubbing._

**A/N-  
Please review. I really enjoy your feedback and your opinions.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: This Ain't a Party**_

I pulled up into the parking lot, and parked in the row closest to the entrance. I let out a sigh and rested my head on the steering wheel. _Fuck._ I let some asshole talk me into going to a club. _A club!_ Filled with drugs and alcohol and other shit I hate. STD ravaged rats, drunkard shit-heads, and meth addict crackheads. There is a reason I dislike people, especially people in this town. I hate being surrounded by all this shit, and I'm jumping head first to the spawning point of it all.

I shook my head, and stepped out of my car, grabbing my street clothes. I shut my door and then proceeded to lock my car. The building had about 30 apartments, one of those thirty being occupied by me. It was in good condition in comparison to the other apartment complexes around this area. The exterior was worn brick, and in the dark only a couple lights illuminated the side of the building and enterance. The interior had a rather corny 70's floral wallpaper. The floor was a faded faux-walnut. Plastic wood is always the way to go.

It's not decrepit, and that's absolutely amazing. It's well kept, with no leaky anythings or creaky floorboards. My closet door squeaks, but it just needs a little DW-40, and it's not like I'm in my closet enough for it to really be some huge issue –to me at least. However, I digress; this apartment is kept in amazing repair in comparison to the other places in this town, and I'm happy I live here.

I muddled to the entrance, and jammed my key in the door. _Left, right, click_. I turned the knob, pushed the door open, and was greeted by a nice blast of cool air that sent a small chill up my spine. It was still humid and mucky out, and the air conditioning in here was a refreshing change of pace. I liked the goose bumps that trickled down my arm, it was a pleasant reminder that I'm not at work anymore. I shook my keys around trying to find the key to my mail box, and the jingling had apparently disturbed my only grouchy neighbor who just so happened to be filing a complaint at the complaint box, across from the mail boxes. His name is Bob, and he's has to be –singlehandedly, the _most_ crotchety 28-year-old I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.

"Do you _mind_?" He asked, though it was more of a condescending enjoinment.

"Yes, yes I do mind. I mind your tone, and I mind your attitude. These are keys, and when they run into each other, they make noise. As do many other things." I said calmly, rattling the keys around for emphasis.

His brows furrowed into an agitated 'v'. I knew that look all too well. This is the very look I gave Andrew earlier today when I wasn't about to admit I was the asshole, and I should've been sorry. That look was enough of an apology for me. He turned his head away from me, and then proceeded to give me a miniscule glare out of the corner of his eye. He shook his head, and then let out an airy scoff.

"Just," He paused for a moment. "Don't make so much noise."

"Yeah." I nodded, letting out a tiny laugh, while finally stumbling upon the right key.

I opened the box to find nothing inside. I shrugged and turned to my immediate right, walking up the first flight of stairs. There were three flights of steps, seeing as there were ten apartments on each floor. I lived in room 22B. The letters A, B, and C signified what floors the rooms were on for those that could not group tens. Bob lived in 12A , so everything I did, he heard. Then again, he's also one of those people that hears anything at all and blames it on whichever neighbor he believes has earned being the recipient of his foul attitude. Now, I can't exactly say my attitude is better, but I at least remain civil and do not have the complaint box filled to the brim with complete stupidity.

I reached the top of the steps, followed the curved bannister and rotating 180 degrees on the first floor, walked to the end of the hall and proceeded up the next flight of steps. I mosey into my room after unlocking the door, and throw my work clothes on the worn turquoise futon that sat behind a poor excuse for a coffee table. I'm living comfortably here, but I'm certainly not living in the lap of luxury.

I opened the door to my closet slowly, because if I didn't it would make a really loud creaking sound, and then stop with a thud on the door stop. I don't think I need any more Bob today. I don't think Bob needs anymore me today. He's actually the only one of my neighbors that is really hard to deal with. The rest are mellow, calm, and generally nice. I believe I live with the pot smokers of the town. I've always been offered pot, but I've never tried. Not because I've got a problem, but because it's illegal. Until it's lawful, I won't touch it. I don't know if I'll want it after it's legal, I've heard it smells bad.

I started to search through my nicer clothes, and I found a nice gray shirt, with long sleeves and maroon stripes across the chest. I threw off my clothes, and stood there in my underwear for a long minute. I placed my hands on my stomach and lightly trailed a path to my waist, trying to establish what someone who decided to touch me would feel. My skin was smooth, but I lacked in rock hard abs. I repeated this motion, up and down a few times, and started to believe I do not have hips, because there is no way to tell. I sighed as I looked down at my body to see something I am extremely unimpressed with.

I'm not muscular, or even toned. I feel chubby. These briefs would do anyone but me justice. The material was black, and the elastic was grey. Black is fairly flattering on most people. I just look gross and slobbish. It's been a really long time since I've looked at myself and thought I was horrifying when I was this close to being naked. Pasty white and chubby with stupid tattoos, faggy piercings, and a weird face. I wandered to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror. I pulled at my cheeks. Out, down, up. Still lacking in -at the very least, a hot face.

"Ugh." I groaned, poking my gut. Maybe it could be worse.

_Probably not._

God, I'm fucking hideous. Who would want an ugly virgin like me? Why am I going to a club, when I'll only embarrass myself? Granted there is a gay guy I'm attracted to in that entire building. I might just be going there to get laughed at by girls, and pushed around by guys. Just like my entire school career. I'll sit by myself for a couple hours and watch people have fun socializing, because no one is going to want to talk to me, and god knows I don't want to talk to them.

Or maybe I do? Why can't I admit it to myself, or anyone else? I want to socialize so badly. I want to find people to talk to and to joke with and to share interests with. It's possible I just don't want to associate with the type of people I know, because we don't share anything. Life experiences, wants, passions, views, senses of humor, and interests never sync up between people and I. I know people that like pizza like I do, but that's the only thing we have in common. That seems to be how it always works out.

It dawned on me I should probably shower before I get changed. I don't want to look like a mess _and_ smell offensive. I pulled the black and grey briefs off, and I was embarrassed because of being so exposed; and there wasn't even anyone around. I couldn't bear to look at my solid 2/10 body in the mirror any longer. I draped my towel over the mirror, and tried to keep my eyes fixed on the shower curtain, knowing if I looked down I'd be faced with the reality that my clothing hides. I am a monster, and as much as I hate feeling this way about myself, I can't.

Have you ever wanted to trade bodies with anyone -anyone at all, just to get out of your own skin? If you haven't, savor every glance at something reflective. Tell yourself you're beautiful, because you are. Tell yourself you're great, because you are. Someone would kill to look at themselves like you do yourself. I guess I'm only this ugly because I feel ugly, if that makes any sense.

I turned the shower water on to the highest heat setting, and waited for it to start to melt the shower floor. I ran my hand under the water when I saw steam. Though it wasn't anywhere near hot enough, I decided to get in anyway. There was a somewhat calming effect to the water beating on my back. It felt safe in here, all by myself. The warm droplets reminded me of being embraced by someone. It was like they had their arms around me and weren't about to let go.

I examined my shower products. I had a lot of shampoo and body wash. I have typical guy stuff, but I also have fruity stuff. Would that be typical _gay_ stuff? Stereotypes don't matter, it just sounds like something your average masculine heterosexual wouldn't do. Maybe in however many years it takes for this gender box stuff to disappear, it'll be normal. All I know is fruit smells nice, and they don't make strawberry anything for men.

I was presented by a dilemma because of it. Should I use the 'for men' stuff, or should I use my fruity things. What if the few gay guys there were only attracted to guys that smelled like mannish stuff, not fruit? Why is this a problem?

I decided to go with the masculine stuff. If anything, by the time I come home, I'll want to wash tonight off my freshly tainted skin. This would be the first time I've ever been shoved into hundreds of horny sweating drunk adults. So far, the most crowded room I've been in is the locker room at school, so the only difference if the alcohol. For the most part.

It might not be too bad, maybe. I might make a friend, but it would surprise me if they weren't on drugs. I'm not sure I want a friend that's on drugs, but maybe they need a friend as much as I do. Or maybe I'm so lonely I'm lowering my standards.

_This may be a lot of things._

I scrubbed myself vigorously, trying to scare off any pheromones that may indicate nervousness or being unsure. If I smell like a man, I ought to act like one. I moved away from the water, and continued scrubbing until my skin went red. I examined my sleeve, and that was about the only thing I liked about my body. I liked the colors and patterns that I got to carry around with me forever.

I pulled into the place I assumed Andrew had talking about; this was the only club that was two miles west from work. I think he said its name was X2C. How clever. I looked around for a sign or any indication that this was in fact the place I'm looking for. I turned my head left, nothing over there. My head snapped right, and _there we go,_ there is the line of assholes.

I emerged from my protective metal cocoon, and took a deep breath. I grasped my back pocket to check for my wallet. I let out a sigh of relief when I felt the lump, at least I have it. Now for the hard part. Do I make a convincing 21? I hope so, or Andrew and I are fucked. Mostly me, but Andrew might get some shit too. I peered around the sea of sequin dresses and spiked hair, trying to find my friend. He said he'd stay by the doorway, and I can't tell whether or not he's actually here. It doesn't pay to be as tall as a middle school kid, I've found.

"Andrew?" I squeaked quietly. I got the attention of some passersby with my chirp, but the other member of my party was apparently nowhere close.

I began to move from my car to the front entrance, and then I heard the most wonderful thing. Someone with a familiar voice was calling my name. I spun around to face the voice quickly and saw Andrew. I can honestly say this is the happiest I've been to see his mostly stupid face.

"Just on time, man." Andrew nodded, and held his hand out like we were supposed to do that half hand shake and shoulder bump thing. I examined his hand and arm, and then returned his gaze.

"No." I said quietly, shaking my head. "No, we're not doing that."

"Whatever, just be cool when we get up to the front." He said and paused. "You do have the thing, right?"

I nodded in response, and he began walking to the entrance. I followed like a lost puppy and had to push through a couple people on the way. I heard my shoes dragging across the asphalt. My heart dropped as we neared the door.

Thirty minutes had passed before we got to the door. Andrew showed his ID, the bouncer glanced quickly and nodded. I mimicked Andrew, and the bouncer examined mine a little more closely. He grunted slightly and nodded.

Walking into this place was like walking into an ocean of filthy rats. It felt like these people would suck me into their grasp and make me one of them. The air was thick and it seemed as if my lungs refused to accept the heavy gas. It smelled of booze, cigarettes, Axe, and Victoria's Secret perfume. There was absolutely nothing I liked about this, nothing. The lights were too bright and added to the unbearable temperature in this room. I felt my forehead, and noticed a little sweat. Good God, I haven't even been in here for 15 minutes.

This place had that stupid collector/sports bar theme. Miscellaneous music, movie, pop culture, indie and football items crowded the walls. John Wayne, Whitney Houston, football jerseys, hipster memorabilia. Everything.

I noticed there were bars in every corner of this dwelling. No wonder, if this is even a slight hint as to what traffic they get on the weekends, they need it. Three were crowded, and then the furthest away from me was fairly empty, and had a couple places to sit. I noticed an interesting mural behind the shelves of alcohol. The mural only made that bar look more appealing, because this was the only wall decoration that didn't want to make me vomit. This was actually something that deserves to be seen.

I walked slowly up to the bar, taking my surroundings in as I went. I want a Cherry Coke, and I want to look at the neat design they've got as a mural. The lights were neon and bright in my eyes. I caught glimpses of pink, blue, yellow, and green before I was certain this place would rob me of my vision.

After pushing through women and men that were trying to grind on me, either mistaking my sex, or mistaking my intentions. I parked myself on one of the cushy leather seats with a slight flop. They've got bars in every corner of this place, and this one had the least people around it. I mean that's a little obvious since I found a place to sit.

"Can I get a cherry Coke?" I asked the bartender as she was cleaning off her work area.

"Sure." She nodded absentmindedly and let the rag go.

I stared at the mural and smiled a little. It's really nice, it's got neat colors and its style is completely unique. It had a crowd dancing around under brightly colored lights. Upon further examination, these people didn't seem like normal people. I squinted at the painting and noticed they're all pale, and a few of them have fangs. I think I get it, though. Out of all the types of living dead in monster culture, vampirism is probably the most romantic. Would you rather be drug off by a horde of living dead that wanted to rip into your flesh, or carried away by a single soulless body that made you feel loved and safe, and that would probably ensure you could not feel your death. Or your possible reanimation.

"Who painted this?" I asked the bartender suddenly, my head tilting to the side with my eyes still locked on the gorgeous art.

"Some introverted artist guy. I think the owner said he talked to the guy once, just to talk about what he wanted on the canvas. His name was like Gerald Road or something equally as stupid." She said, placing the plastic cup under the soda dispenser. I grimaced a little at the fact she said his name was stupid. She probably only thought he was stupid because she deemed him an introvert.

"Well I think it's nice." I said as she passed me my drink.

"Six dollars." She said, holding out her hand.

I nodded with most of my focus still on the painting as I handed her the ten from my wallet. Waiting a few minutes, I got my four dollars in change and resumed wondering about the painting. To be honest, I mostly wondered about the artist. What does he look like? Is he really an introvert? What other things has he done with his artistic ability?

About an hour had passed of me contemplating who this guy was and what he did before I was broke out of my musing by the sound of my name. I sighed slightly and pushed my empty Coke glass to the side. Turning around on the swivel chair, I went to face Andrew. He emerged from a crowd of women with a tall, muscular curly haired man behind him.

"Frank! Thank god I found you. This is Ray. He's gay, 21, and he likes stupid bands too." Andrew spoke loudly. I exhaled intensely, and looked at Andrew with my lips pursed slightly. "Take him home." He said after the brief silence and pushed this Ray character over to me. I couldn't exactly say I was attracted to him, but he was attractive for the most part.

I had driven to my house with Ray following me. So I guess this means I've got less chances to fuck this up. Maybe if I sleep with him, I'll get into a relationship and I won't be so lonely. I guess I could give it a try.

I've always wanted my first time to be special, but what's the point in romanticizing something that's just an urge. A really intense, animalistic urge that you can only make appear to be romantic.

_Is this me giving up all hope?_

I sure hope not. I just want to have a bond with someone. Who says this isn't the best way to go about it? Okay, this probably isn't the best way to go about it, but every other option isn't an option for me. This boat was half fucked before it even hit the water, and now we're sailing on false hopes and heads filled with fantasy.

I pulled into my regular parking space, and Ray wasn't far behind. I tried my hardest to not let my anxious and awkward feelings to get the best of me. I acted calm and collected as he approached me and placed his hand on my lower back, guiding me to the entrance he knew we were headed for. I felt a slight chill dash up my spine.

_God I'm nervous_. _I don't even know his last name._

"Frank," Ray started with a slight groan. "I need to go."

"I am really, really sorry." I apologized for about the millionth time.

"It's okay, I understand." He returned flatly, grabbing his jacket.

It was three o'clock in the morning, and he had been here for a while trying to console me; the poor guy. I did give him head before I started to cry and say I'll never find anyone. So at least he got that much.

There was an extremely hot make out session, followed by some almost awkward grinding, proceeded by a couple "You're so good, you've got me hard already babe" moans, and then I got my face fucked.

I knew I wouldn't be able to last actual sex without an extreme mental breakdown followed by more crying and whining than he got tonight. Apparently for an emotionally handicapped virgin, I am rather good at giving head.

_Why am I proud of that?_

It's probably because it means I'm attractive, right? I mean I turned him on, and I made him cum, so that must mean I'm not as ugly as I thought. Or it just means he was thinking of someone else as I did it, which is mostly insulting, but I'd understand why.

Either way, that doesn't really matter. Right now Ray was leaving and I couldn't say sorry enough to truly convey how sorry I am.

"Ray, I really didn't mean to do all that, I'm sorry." I called as he headed for the door.

"I'll call you in a while, okay? I do kind of like you, I just can't deal with all that," He paused, rubbing his eyes slightly as he looked up from the floor at me. "Right now. I can't deal with that right now."

Thank god he specified, I'd hate to think I did all hat just for him to walk out.

To be honest, I still hurt. I still don't really like being me. This solved my loneliness for the hour and a half before I lost my shit, but now it's back. The gut wrenching hurt that I wish would just turn off. At this point, I'm fairly suicide is the only way to find the end to this void, but I don't want that for me.

Is this what it feels like to be used? I don't like this. I feel like my entire being is disposable. I'm just some cardboard someone used to pack things for moving, and then threw out. I wasn't that important to begin with. Do I deserve this? I probably am unwanted, and deserve to be discarded. Curling up into a ball on my bedroom floor, I listened to my front door shut quietly. Immediately following the click, a new flood of tears made their way out of my eyes. They burned my cheeks as they fell to the floor. I kept wiping my face; I couldn't bare to look at my own tears. I know I didn't deserves to cry, or feel bad at all. If I didn't bring all this upon myself, I should've seen this coming.

I cried until my lungs felt like they were about to collapse. I found strange comfort in the struggle to breathe, and the pressure on my ribs.

**A/N:  
I fucked up the end pretty hard. My brain just kinda shat that out and let it the way it was, and I'm truly sorry. I tried revising, but my everything was screaming "THIS IS OKAY, STICK WITH THIS." Either way, I apologize sincerely for my shit ending.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~Spoiler~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~Spoiler~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
~~~~~~Friend, this is a SPOILER.~~~~~~**

**Gerard physically comes in next chapter. He's not half mentioned in a stupid way, I promise. He is legitimately there.**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Spoiler is over~~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~~~~~~Spoiler is gone!~~~~~~~~~~**

**~~~~~~~The rest of the author's note is coming, you better run~~~~~~~**

**Please leave some feedback. Please. I genuinely appreciate even you bashing your face against your keyboard and pressing enter. 4Reelz. So please, review, comment, like favorite, download, whatever your options are, do it. If you don't enjoy it tell me I'm a pitiful excuse for a human and I should go deepthroat a cactus or something, whatever floats your boat friend.**

**Next update is coming whenever I get finished writing it. School hasn't been too bad lately, and I'm shoving out words like I'm a typewriter, or something of equal lettery goodness. Keyboard, maybe.**

**Thanks for paying attention to my horrible bullshit. I love you.**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3: Things Are (Not) Okay **_

New Monday same bullshit work week. This time Phil is here, and I can't focus. I've felt dirty ever since I stopped crying over Ray, and the last thing I'm okay with is an intense eye fucking. He's going to be busy with some guy the owner commissioned to draw us a mascot, so it should stop soon. I'm really glad he put Phil in charge of that, actually. Though that's about the only person that could, it still works out fabulously.

I don't dare look into the hungry eyes, they just may rip me apart. Can he smell the three day old shame? I've rubbed myself raw with washcloths to get it off me, but I don't think it has worked. The famished orbs approached me, now coupled with a watering mouth. Do I look like a slut, or am I just noticing things I've never noticed about the zealous rubbernecking?

I immediately looked down at my register, and pretended as if I was doing something. It was quiet the transparent disguise, and I'm not sure why I expected him to buy into it. I pressed the busted keys as if I was frustrated with something. We had gotten a few customers earlier, but none in the last 45 minutes, so nothing should've been wrong with my register. Or I shouldn't have noticed it now.

"Something troubling you?" He asked with a sly grin, leaning against the register.

I kept fucking with it to try and make this shitty dissimulation look legitimate. "N-No." I squeaked, my voice cracking slightly. I cleared my throat, and shook my head as if I could shake the embarrassment right off. "No, nothing is troubling me." I said, feeling the hot blood rushing to my face, covering me in a light pink. I analyzed his face for a brief second, and saw his grin had grown.

"You don't sound too confident in your answer." He chuckled, and let his hand brush against mine gently.

I tried my best to shoot him an intimidating glare in response, and I honestly can't believe I thought that'd work, too. Squinting my eyes and pouting slightly, I realized that probably looked more playful than intimidating. I snorted quietly and looked back down at my register, pressing the buttons to give my "there is something wrong with this" story a little more believability. Hopefully he'll just fucking leave me be.

I saw him take in a breath as if he was about to say something, but his attention was drawn to the entrance as the bell by the door rang. Glancing at the entrance, I saw a figure of average height enter the building. As he stepped into the light, I saw he had black shoulder length hair. He was pale, and dressed like me. Black jeans, tattered shoes, and a baggy t-shirt. To say I instantly wanted to know this person was a bit of an understatement. Call me insane, but I think I like him already. Okay, I most definitely am insane but this is the best I've felt about being crazy.

"Gerard Way?" Phil asked, standing up straight.

"Uh, yeah. I guess you're Phillip." The figure named Gerard nodded and approached the register slowly. Gerard Way? Is his the guy that drew the mural? The bartender didn't really know his name, she only ventured a guess. Gerald Road honestly sounded stupid. I'm not going to be timid. I am going to ask him about his work. I am going to make, at the very least, friends with him.

I've never felt this before. I honestly see something in him, something I like. I'm generally repulsed by everyone. He is different. There is no maybe, I _know_ he is different.

Gerard and Phil went back to his office, discussing simple stuff I assume. Phil wasn't anywhere near the artistic type. He's the type of guy that'll call an artist a useless fag and slam him into a set of lockers. I tried thinking about how I was to approach Gerard. Maybe I could ask about the other things he's done. Or maybe I could ask him about how to draw, though I wasn't really interested in how to draw, but how he drew. If this is the same Gerard that was responsible for the mural, I know for a fact he's talented.

About half an hour had passed before Gerard walked out of the back office. He smiled slightly and waved once in what I'm assuming is Phil's general direction. He started for the exit, and I was nervous about approaching him.

_It's now or never._

"G-Gerard!" I called, sprinting a little to catch up with him. "Can I ask you some questions?"

"Sure, I guess." He shrugged stopping and allowing me to catch up to him. As I neared him, I felt a blush rise up to dust my cheeks once again. He had stunning hazel eyes. They looked a little green in the right light, but that didn't stop them from piercing right through me. It's like he actually saw me there, standing in front of him.

He had a small, cute nose and thin pink lips. His eyebrows were thick, but they fit his oval-ish face perfectly. He was thin, and about half a ruler taller than me. I noticed I had just stood there analyzing his wonderful features without speaking a word, and he was now giving me a look. Not an irritated or angry look, just a slightly confused look.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I zoned out." I said, trying to collect my thoughts. His good looks sent my mind into a whirlwind of jumbled up letters and words and this is the first time someone's ever made me like this. "Did you do the painting at the club X2C?"

"Yeah, actually. I did." He nodded, and then became visibly skeptical. "How would you know about it? You couldn't be any older than 19."

"That's beside the point." I mumbled. "I really like your work. I'd also really like to get to know you." I clenched my fists slightly, impressed at my own balls to suggest something like that.

"You know what? Okay. That actually sounds good; you don't seem like a lot of the assholes I willingly hang out with." He paused for a moment. "Wait, do you go to clubs often?"

"No, my friend wanted me to go and I have absolutely no social life so I figured I'd go," I paused. "For science, of course."

He chuckled lightly and flashed a tiny smile. My heart instantly melted into a gooey paste. I couldn't help but smile in response, his grin was wonderful. What the fuck is wrong with me, swooning like a school girl? I've never been suddenly infatuated with anyone, ever. What the fuck is he different?

_Because he __**is**__ different._

"Call me whenever you get a day off..." He trailed off, about to hand me his card. He arm stopped half way between the gap from him to me. "What _is_ your name?" The black haired man asked gingerly. The hint of sultriness in his voice is going to send me spiraling, I swear.

"F-Frank Iero." I sputtered once again, mentally cursing myself for being overcome by butterflies at the mere quality of the voice of this _perfect_ stranger.

"Alright F-Frank Iero," He mocked in the most polite way someone can mock a person. He grinned again, and passed the small rectangular slip of paper my way. "Call me when you get the chance, I'm never busy."

I nodded and tried not to smile too much, I didn't want to seem creepy. He began to exit, and before he got out the door, he turned around and waved. I of course waved back with excitement. I wanted to jump around, sing, and dance like a maniac. I finally have a crush. You'd be surprised how good something feels after feeling empty for so long.

I realized something that was magical and kind of off-putting. I felt something. I really felt something for someone -for him, this time. I could just be an asshole who attaches to anyone who looks in their general direction, but I know that he is different.

_I know it._

I snapped out of my glorious daze, and turned around to go back to my register. I saw a miffed looking Phil leaning against my work station. I walked over slowly, with a bit of pep in my step. I was probably going to call Gerard Friday, and I honestly couldn't wait until then.

As I neared the register, I was met by a new confidence. "What's the matter, Phil?" I said with smile and sat on the stool I've had here for an eternity.

"You whore yourself out to a stranger like that, but you won't do anything with me? After I continue to pay you though I know you sit around here and do the bare fucking minimum?" He growled, his brow furrowing.

"Excuse me?" I snapped in response, my attitude changing completely.

"You fucking know what, don't play dumb. You're fickle for a slut." He spat.

"I don't think you know what the fuck you're talking about, I have never had sex in my life." I said in defense of myself. I haven't ever had sex, and I've only sucked one dick, and that was just a couple days ago.

"Yeah, and I've never seen daylight. It doesn't pay to lie. Andrew told me you took some guy home, I'm sure you rode him like a slut." He murmured. "I _will_ have you. You _will_ admit you want me, and I know it."

"You know jack shit about me. I wouldn't willingly touch you with a ten foot pole. You are a slimy, despicable rat." I argued, becoming irate. I defiantly crossed my arms over my chest and huffed.

"Then I guess I'll be touching you." He snarled with a small bite in his voice, and slithered back into his office.

My heart immediately leapt into my throat, and my mouth felt as if I had just downed a pound of salt. My eyes widened, the threat finally fully sinking in. I was half tempted to whip around with a, _'what the fuck was that supposed to mean_', but I knew all too well what it meant. I knew every detail of what the venomous words implied, and it had me nearly scared to death. My eyes burned as I fought back the urge to cry. My shock at such a warning wasn't exactly unwarranted, especially when it came from someone who has been making unshared sexual advances at me since day one.

Beginning to breathe heavily, it felt as if two weights had been placed on either side of my chest.

I get out early on Thursdays because I usually go visit my mom, or drive to the shelter down town and wash a couple dogs. This is the reason I work so long on Fridays, but that's always worth it. I figured before I got into anything serious with any guy (Gerard or not), I'd come out of the closet to my mom. I've been meaning to do it for a while, I've just never had the balls. I'm not sure how she'd react, in all honesty. I can't see her hating me for it, but I can definitely see her being angry with me.

I stepped out of my vehicle after pulling up to the extravagant home. Emerging from my vehicle to the hand carved deep mahogany door which was dappled from the sunlight that shown through one of the twin willows on either side of the door I took a deep breath. I glanced at the Dickens' style knocker, considering using it for a moment. I decided against it, and wrapped my hand around the polished silver knob, turning until I heard the click. Bracing myself, I walked into my old house -my mother's house, and was greeted by the raspy voice of my more or less estranged step-father.

"You're so polite to just barge in here. It's refreshing to not have to deal with those considerate civilized human beings that knock." He heard him mutter from some other room.

I peered around, searching for his worn face, and dark hair laced with greys. I couldn't see him in the lavish kitchen that was directly across the hall, or the classy living room. My step father -Ryan, was a lawyer, and my mother is a real estate agent. They own a very large, very elegant home in the cut off between the bullshit of my town, and the suburb area outside it.

Why the fuck do I care what he's doing? I'm here to see my mom, not get judged by this stupid asshole.

Okay, he wasn't a complete asshole; he was just more of a pretentious dick than he needed to be. I don't want to go to college, I want to be a musician, but he only way he'll see me as another human being is if I go to college. He doesn't understand that unless I'm going for the New York Philharmonic, I don't need any extensive knowledge of music. I can read it, write it, transpose it, and keep time, and I learned all of that for free.

I slipped my shoes off and set them outside, as not to dirty the impeccable floors. I shook my head and strolled into the dining room to see my lovely mother. She was wearing a dark purple suit jacket, matching slacks and two prim and polished heals. She had an extremely white undershirt with a small pearl necklace. She was sorting through papers with a determined look about her. I had stood there for a second with my shoulders in my pockets before she noticed me.

"Frank!" She exclaimed happily, moving as fast as she could from the other side of the table. I quickly moved to meet her so she wasn't running around in her heals. She hugged me tightly, squeezing me for an instant before letting go. "I'm glad you came, sweetheart."

"Of course ma." I nodded and smiled. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about something anyway."

"Oh? What is it?" She enquired, tilting her head slightly to the side.

It's a lot harder than you think to come out of the closet to your mom. She was never really a devout Christian, but she believed in god. I'm not sure how she'd take it, but I guess we'll find out.

"I am," I paused for a moment and tried to summon my guts. "I am gay."

"Yes, I know." She stated flatly.

"You know?" I demanded without being harsh. I just wanted to know how she knew. I've never talked to her about relationships at all, so me being asexual should be less of a surprise than me being gay. Or at least you'd think that.

"It's not that hard to figure out." She shrugged. "Besides, if I couldn't tell, I'd be a bad mom. Why'd you choose now to tell me? Got a boyfriend?"

"No, but I want one." I sighed, and let my shoulders relax.

"Who is the lucky guy?" She quizzed, placing a light hand on my shoulder.

"Have you heard of Gerard Way? The artist?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Of course, your father and I know everyone who's anyone." She said. "Though, he's a tad introverted..." So I've heard. "...so getting a date with him may present a challenge. At least you can work with his sexuality, he's gay too."

"I technically have a date already." I said, grinning.

"Oh? How do you have a date with him when he won't leave the house to attend an art auctions and unveilings with senators, and celebrities? He wouldn't even talk to your father when he requested a piece for his firm." She enquired, an eyebrow rising.

"He showed up at work to draw us a logo or like a mascot or something, and I asked him if I could get to know him. He gave me his number, and said I could call any time I was free." I shrugged, the grin still etched into my cheeks. The mysterious artist, which I've somehow never heard of, has a soft spot for only me, and I don't have to worry about whether or not he is gay. I was having a hard time not feeling pride in me being able to capture the attention of the illusive illustrating virtuoso.

"He is quite the strange man." She stated, setting her hands on her hips. "That's actually very interesting, though. When are you going to call him?"

"Tomorrow after work. I was going to see if he wanted to go to a restaurant and get dinner." I started. "Now that I know all that, I don't think he'll settle for some shitty food from some cheap diner."

"What's your budget?" She asked, moving from her spot beside me to her tidy desk.

"Like, 60 dollars max." I shrugged. 50 is pushing it for me, so this is really going out of my way. That's fine though, it'll be worth it.

My mom reached into her pocket book, and handed me two tickets. "This is for a fun little cooking class your father and I were going to attend. We've got a dinner to go to that night, so I'd like you to take them so they don't go to waste."

"Mom, you don't have t-" I began before I was cut off.

"I want to. You've been such a big help through all my treatment, it's the least you deserve. You're a very selfless person, and I appreciate that more than anything else in the world." She admitted, coming back over from her desk and wrapping me up in her arms once again.

"We'll of course, you're my mom and I love you very much." I said, hugging her back tightly.

Pulling out of the embrace, she ruffled my hair lightly and smiled. She has always loved hugs, and she says she loves the fact that I'm barely 5'4". _"It's like I've still got my little Frankie that used to run around and brag about doing well on his spelling test."_ she's said. I saw her smile fade briefly and there was something in her eyes that I wasn't used to seeing. I only saw that look when I had gotten hospitalized from E. Coli. She was scared. Absolutely terrified was an outrageous understatement.

"I love you, too." She said, her voice wavering as she stroked my hair.

"You okay?" I inquired, genuinely concerned.

"Well, the doctor said I'm not getting any worse." She stopped for a moment to think. I could tell all of this was really hard for her, and I couldn't stand to see her hurt. "He also said I'm not getting any better. I'm only stable, and he's not sure how long that will last."

I saw a tear form in the corner of her eye, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand. I did my best to smile and soothe her.

"No need to worry, you'll be better soon." I reassured, and hugged my mother once again.

I at least hope everything would be fine. I don't want to lose my mom at 19. I don't want to lose my mom ever. Being face to face with death like she is must be horrible. She used to only see it as an obstacle, another silly detail, something that was in the way. Now it was truly weighing her down. Physically, they were at a stalemate. Mentally, the disease was getting her, it's in the lead. I have no idea how to console someone with cancer when they believe they're going to die. Everything will be fine, though.

_Everything has to be fine._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: Firsts**_

The weather, still on the fritz, brought about sleet, and a chilly wind which brought the temperature of 20° to a whopping 12°. To prepare myself with my date with Gerard, I had followed just about the same routine I had before I went to the club just a week ago. A little less self-loathing, I am happy to admit, but the same routine nonetheless. I had put on a semiformal bluish-grey button up with a silky black, and over top of it went a black sweater my mother had bought me for Christmas of maybe 2009, making this thing a little over four years old. I'm happy it still fits.

Giving the mirror a fleeting look, I huffed slightly at myself. I really hope this doesn't make me look like a pretentious wannabe Goth '_too edgy for you' _types. I thought I looked nice for once as I brushed my short hair over to the side once again. I straightened my facial piercings, and brushed off my sweater. I probably didn't look like a 10/10, but I had definitely upgraded from a 2.

I had called Gerard Thursday to make sure he would be up for a get together so late. We had talked for about thirty minutes, and he sounded as excited as I was. He agreed to pick me up for what he also called our _date _saying he knew those tickets were probably expensive, so it was the least he could do. You can say I'm just star-struck, but either way you split it, he's quite the gentleman.

I slipped downstairs into the lobby, and waited for Gerard to show up. This is my first date _ever_, and my mind is racing. What about after the date? Would I give myself to him, too? What if he leaves without hesitation like Ray did? What if this turns into something platonic? I do want a friend, but I'd rather have Gerard as a boyfriend. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking in terms of the future -I should definitely keep myself here, in the present. I want to make tonight good, and whatever happens can't be changed, so there is no point stressing over it before I have to choose, and no point dwelling on it after. That, and I'm giving myself the creeps already planning on trying to get into a relationship with him, imagine what he'd think.

I picked at my nails and fingers with my teeth, gnawing on my skin. I've never been one to get anxious, but I felt the awful knots forming in my stomach. The butterflies' wings had turned into razor blades, and they danced around in my stomach with more fervor than ever. It would be a lot easier if he just got here already and I didn't have to wait. Then it hit me, the worst thought I could possibly have in this situation. What if he stands me up?

I've got a couple minutes before 8 o'clock (I once again left work early), so I've got an hour or two before I'm officially stood up. Patting my hands on my legs so that way I didn't maul my fingers and mangle them more, I heard the purring of an unfamiliar car outside. I approached the door, peering out the exit subconsciously stuffing my fingers in my mouth.

Early evening darkness enveloped a small, sleek vehicle. It was obviously new, or at least in great condition. The engine of the machine hummed as someone stepped out of the car slowly. I glimpsed at the clock, and it read 7:56. Resident butterflies lurched forward in my stomach, presenting a less unpleasant tingling sensation than before.

The body advanced to the entry, and in the dim light of the lobby, I saw Gerard standing outside the door. He was about to tap on the glass, but he looked up and saw me. Waving slightly, he stepped away from the door so I could exit. I stepped out into the night, and the icy air bit my cheeks. My hair was swept with the bitter wind, and I crossed my arms over my chest. I should've grabbed a jacket, but it's too late for that now.

I examined Gerard's smiling dimple-less face. His rich black hair was swept back -on purpose, and it feathered out in a unique way. His hair looked about as soft to the touch as his ivory skin as it blew gracefully with the wind. He had an unzipped leather jacket over his clothes, a dressy vest, white button up and a red tie. Saying he looked great was an insult. He was radiant and statuesque as he stood over me with a pleased look on his face.

"This way." He said, tucking an arm behind his back, and leading me to his car.

I sniggered quietly as he did, and opened the car door for me. I slid into the small leather interior, and sat on the cool seat. Wriggling around slightly, I searched for a seat belt. Gerard shut the door after I had gotten in, quickly made his way into the driver's seat smoothly, and hooked his seat belt in with one fluid motion. I wondered if everything he owned was like this, flashy and top of the line. Not that I wanted it to be, I was just curious. I looked over at Gerard, and he smiled softly at me.

"Enjoy the finer things?" I asked, patting the dash of the car lightly.

"I wish I could." He chuckled. "This is going to sound like that regular idiot rich person pretending to be normal bullshit," he began as he pulled out of the parking lot. "But material goods mean nothing to me. I'd honestly prefer a tiny apartment to some 750,000 dollar mansion. Not that I own a 750,000 dollar home, but I hope you get my point."

"No, I totally understand." I said, shaking my head. "My mom remarried when I was 4, to Ryan Wynnfeld," I said flatly, seeing Gerard look over at me out of the corner of my eye, and I understood he knew exactly who I was talking about. "And she's a very successful real estate agent. She's sold land to Pamela Anderson, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and everyone in between. Point is I've always been surrounded by money, and it's a bunch of shit."

"Ryan Wynnfeld?" He asked, looking from the road to me every couple seconds. "He wanted me to do something for his firm once. I'm pretty sure he's the one that spread a rumor I was addicted to prescription pain killers because I didn't."

He adjusted his shoulders and slouched back slightly, his jaw setting a little and his eyebrows nearly furrowing. I examined his body language; he was obviously pissed at the thought of a professional doing such a slimy thing. It actually made me kind of angry, though I really didn't put it past Ryan.

"Don't take it personally, he treats me like a barbarian because I won't go to college, and for all intents and purposes, this man is my father." I said and shrugged.

"That's no excuse." He murmured. "He really shouldn't treat you the way he treats people he doesn't like."

"As much as I agree it doesn't change the fact that when it's his business and reputation, he'll throw anyone under the bus to keep it intact." I smiled slightly, and looked over at him. "Besides, we can piss him off in return by hanging out and stuff more."

He chuckled once again and nodded. "Yeah. That sounds like a plan."

Gerard and I stood behind our large countertop, waiting for the instructor to instruct. It had dawned on me earlier that I'm a vegetarian, and they're probably going to make me cook meat. I grimaced to myself, half tempted to sneak over to the freezer and check. I don't want to cook some poor animal some company slaughtered for mass consumption. I didn't really like meat to begin with, so that puts me at _absolutely no chance in hell of me eating tonight. _

The room was lit nicely, the iridescent light showering over everyone and everything in the happy medium between obnoxiously bright and too dim to be productive. The wooden countertops were a slick polished Walnut, no visible scratches or impurities on its glistening surface.

I had a hard time not ogling Gerard. One of his strong large hands rested against his waist as he stared at the instructor intently. I gawked at his toned smooth arms, and I suddenly realized I officially have a type. I have a type, and Gerard is it. I hope this doesn't go platonic; I've never wanted anyone like this. It's strange wanting someone you've just met.

I analyzed his flat chest, wondering what it would be like to touch him. Maybe not even in a sexual way, just to be close to him. I've never wanted any specific person to hold me, but now the faceless man that I pictured holding me close on a cold night is Gerard. He just fits the part perfectly. I want his hands tangled in my hair with his nice big arms enveloping me in his warmth. I'd be okay with holding him too. Chest to chest, just feeling his upper body rise and fall against mine.

My head snapped up to the older man's face, which had another very small grin plastered to it. His head turned slowly in my direction, and his eyes nearly met mine before I looked away. I didn't want him to _know_ I was staring. He chuckled slightly and I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

"You know, it's okay if you-" He started with a smile before he instructor started talking. He stopped himself and focused on the brunette up front once again.

"Alright folks, I'm Olivia Fare, and we'll be preparing some arugula-stuffed leg of lamb with roasted spring vegetables." She announced, and began to take out the things she'd need for cooking.

I grunted and helped Gerard get our things out of the mini fridge and cabinets. They didn't have more than we needed stocked up, so we emptied everything, and spread the supplies out across the large wooden countertop. I made yet another wry face as my stomach grumbled quietly.

"Not enjoying yourself?" Gerard asked me quietly, looking over me as if he was genuinely concerned.

"No, no it's not that." I protested, shaking my head vigorously. "I'm hungry; I haven't eaten anything since lunch."

He nodded, and plunged his hand into his pocket. Wriggling it around for a moment, he stopped and removed a pack of gum. He opened the little container and handed me a piece of winter mint.

"Not sure if that will help you any." He said, waiting for me to take it.

My hand brushed against his for a second and my entire arm began to tingle. I bit my lip ring slightly, before unwrapping the piece, and putting it in my mouth. I began to gnaw on my fingers once again and quickly corrected myself.

_Chew the gum, not your hands, you asshole._

Gerard giggled at me, and once again began paying attention to the woman at the front of the kitchen. She had been focusing on him for a while now, too. I was curious as to whether or not they knew each other, or if they just recognized each other. I mean, I hadn't heard of Gerard up until this point, so this lady could be royalty and I just don't know.

I had made Gerard prepare the lamb and I worked with the spring vegetables. Other than the few people (including the instructor) that approached us to ask if he was in fact Gerard Way, nothing went badly, and I actually had a very good time helping him cook something I wasn't about to eat. We talked about my tattoos, and his fear of music, and he tossed a couple pinches of salt in my direction playfully, and I threw a couple garlic cloves back.

Ms./Mrs. Olivia Fare had made a few irritating jokes.

"Don't listen too close to the oven, the lamb may get startled and scream." She laughed, and I only managed to glare. Fuck her. I had also asked Gerard if he knew her, and why he was staring so hard, and he just said he was being a good listener, which sounded like a fair excuse.

As we finished plating the dish, Gerard handed me a fork. I chewed more rapidly on the piece of gum that had lost its flavor, to try and get the last of the sustenance out of it. I've been half tempted to swallow it for the past half hour, actually. I looked over at Gerard who was staring at me intently. He had some of the meal on his fork, and was obviously waiting for me to try some.

"Well?" He asked, nodding at my fork.

I'm a vegetarian." I admitted quietly, poking one of the stray cherry tomatoes with a fork and eating it.

Gerard raised an eyebrow, and began to laugh boisterously. Capturing the attention of the dozen other people in the room, he continued to laugh, placing one of his hands lightly over his stomach. Throwing his head back and sighing as the laughter faded, he chuckled a little.

"You should've said something, silly." He giggled. "Or were you planning that just to make me laugh?"

"I didn't really plan any of it." I mumbled with a slight blush growing on my cheeks. I avoided eye contact as I spoke.

"You are honestly the cutest thing I've ever seen in my life. I'll buy a pizza for us okay? We can hang out at my house." He suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'd love to." I agreed, trying to mask the overwhelming excitement that was bubbling inside me.

"C'mon." He said approaching the door, and waved to the exit.

I grabbed a large handful cherry tomatoes and followed him like a lost puppy, shuffling to the door after checking to see if I had forgot anything. I dashed after him as he made his way into the hall. Popping one of the small fruits in my mouth, I caught up to him.

"Want one?" I asked, and held out my hand.

"You're a thief." He snickered, grabbing one and slipping it in his mouth chewing carefully.

"It was what, 70 dollars per ticket, and we didn't even eat the food. I think a couple cents worth of tiny tomatoes is okay, especially since they get our leftovers." I said, grinning.

"The plating was probably the only good thing about it." He said, a smile still on his beautiful face.

"If you're trying to insult my cooking, I'll have you know I make a mean bowl of cereal." I replied, tossing another tomato into the air and catching it with my mouth.

"You'll just have to show me then." He responded, that hint of sultriness in his voice returning.

I inhaled sharply, and nearly choked on my food. I coughed loudly as my lungs fought the puny invader, though there wasn't much of a struggle. Gerard looked at me with an eyebrow raised, and patted my back.

"Thought I was going to have to save your life. You alright?" He asked with genuine concern in his eyes.

"Y-yeah," I stammered and coughed a little again. "Still can't breathe and swallow, so that's a bummer."

"You've got quite the sense of humor." He chuckled, rubbing my back softly, pulling me over to him and closing the gap between us.

"That's a good thing, right?" I questioned, looking up at the taller man intently, trying to read his face before he spoke.

"Yeah, actually. I don't recall laughing this much recently. It's really nice." He said and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I beamed and felt another blush creep up to my cheeks. I bit my lip ring, and pulled at the cold ring of metal. My hands weren't available to chew on, and I didn't want to do that in front of Gerard, so the lip ring will have to do. He looked down at me, our eyes locking momentarily. I bit my lip harder, officially chewing on my skin.

"I wasn't lying when I said you're the cutest thing I've ever seen." He said as we neared the exit. He pushed open the door, and with his hand drifting to my lower back and leading me out the door.

Gerard once again opened my car door and shut it behind me. His house looked cozy, definitely nothing flashy and ridiculously expensive like his car. He lived relatively far away from a lot other people, but he did have neighbors.

His dim porch light lead the way to the metal door. He had a lot of large windows that allowed me to see into the darkness of his home. I stood behind him as he unlocked a deadbolt and the door lock. I rubbed my thighs in an effort to warm them; the cold had practically rendered my legs giant blocks of useless meat. Gerard opened the door, and stepped inside, and I followed closely like a fly to light. It was much warmer in his home than it was outside, and I was very thankful for that.

"So this is my house." He said, flicking the lights on to reveal a warm, inviting cabin styled home. The walls looked like wooden boards, and the floor had a soft grey carpet. He started to his kitchen. "Make yourself at home, I'll preheat the oven. Pick out a movie we can watch or something. The stand is by the TV." He waved his arm in the general direction of the living room, and sunk into the darkness of the rest of his house.

I trotted over to the media stand, and looked around. There was a wide array of films, and it seems he's got about the same taste as me. I dragged my hand over a few cases, and then decided to surprise us both. I closed my eyes, and dragged my pointer finger across the row of cases, and back down. I repeated this enough times until I felt that I was truly picking at random. I stopped and pulled out a DVD without opening my eyes. Out of the titles I had seen, I tried to guess which one I picked. Opening my eyes, I went into a fit of laughter.

_Broke Back Mountain._

I raised an eyebrow at the film, and examined its cover. I've heard a lot about this movie, but I don't think I ever heard anything accurate about the film. Only that it was about two gay cowboys on a ranch. I found it a little ironic that that's the one I picked, seeing as Gerard owns a cabin-esque house, and we're both gay and

_stop._

"You have a really nice laugh, too." He said, and flopped on his couch.

I jumped in reaction to him. Setting the movie back in its place I swiveled around on my heals, my eyes wide with surprise. He grinned at me as his head nodded in the general direction of the shelf. I let out a quiet 'oh' and turned around again, this time picking 'The Empire Strikes Back', and holding it out for him to see, waiting for his approval.

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any better." He laughed quietly.

A blush returned to my face, I honestly don't think it had gone very far since the last time I had felt my cheeks get hot and rosy, and I quickly set the movie on the glass coffee table in front of his leather couch. I wasn't sure which seat I wanted, and I'm assuming Gerard could tell because he patted the space immediately to his left, and smiled warmly at me. I sat next to him, my legs and side touching his.

The movie had been on for at least 15 minutes before the oven finally heated up, and we paused it and slipped the pizza in. I forgot how this movie is the most sexually charged of the original Star Wars trilogy, and mentally kicked myself for choosing that one. Gerard did have his arm locked around my shoulders the entire time, which was very nice. After we finished eating, I smiled and silently thanked him.

We were about two thirds through the film, and I felt a mild tingling sensation on my scalp. I only ever felt that when people stared, and that tingle had been there for a while. So there are two possibilities. I have either finally lost it, or Gerard is staring at me. I will be safe and assume the former, but I should check. I glanced up at Gerard, who was in fact staring a hole through my skull. This was a pleasantly unpleasant surprise; I wasn't sure if I had done anything wrong, or if I had something embarrassing on my head that he should be staring at. Or he could just be into me.

We locked eyes momentarily as I saw his right hand drift from its resting position on his leg to my face slowly. He turned his torso toward me, and placed his fingers under my jaw, resting his thumb lightly on my chin. The older man tilted my head toward his slowly, gazing into my eyes. I felt myself being reduced to a gooey paste again. My heart jumped into my throat as he leaned closer to me, his soft, luscious lips inching closer to mine.

His lips met mine, closed, but obviously wanting more. The kiss was passionate, and he was dominant. Taking place as the best kisser I've met that wasn't myself, I started to feel the electricity. I opened my mouth slightly, giving into the want we both had. He allowed himself into my mouth gently. I really appreciated his not darting his tongue into my mouth like many before him had done.

He explored the inside of my mouth, and I allowed him to do so without argument. Things began to heat up as he placed one of his strong hands on my hip, his fingers tightening slightly around my side. I would've had a spaz and a half had anyone else touched me, because I'm repulsive and don't want people to know, though it seemed like Gerard wouldn't mind what I looked like. That doesn't change the fact there's probably no way in hell I would show anyone my skin. I don't even know if this is going to escalate to sex. I don't know if I'll let it escalate to sex before I cry, and sob, and whine because being alone is killing me. I'll have to be alone again if I fuck this up by freaking out again.

I placed my hand on his muscular arm, and squeezed lightly. The squeezing was brief, but I did it off and on for a while. I heard him let out a few short moans, and I could feel my abdomen begin to tingle in response. I tried to wish what I knew was coming away. To my own surprise I had succeeded in willing it away, and I'm glad I have such self-control. I don't know what's wrong with me, I've had really hot make out sessions before, but I've never even _almost_ got hard from it.

Moving my I placed a light hand on one of his toned pectorals, and if it's even possible, I melted more. _Damn he is perfect_. Our tongues danced together in a fit of need coupled with an unbearable want. We moved together, one fluid motion from start to finish. He brought his hand from my hip to the back of my neck, bringing me a tad closer than before. I grinned into the kiss slightly as his fingers lightly dragged up my neck, sending goose bumps all over my upper body. He rested his hand against the back of my head, tugging at my hair softly causing me to let out a quiet moan in response.

I pulled away from the kiss lightly, and decided to improvise and began nipping lightly at his pale neck. He tilted his head to the side, allowing me to kiss around his perfect jaw line. Slowly, he tilted his head back toward me and reciprocated the kisses, planting a few on my neck. I began working to his collarbone after about three hot sloppy kisses from the artist, and he groaned slightly, his head returning to a normal position.

"God Frank." He muttered breathlessly.

At that moment, I could feel them. The new shipment of tears had finally arrived and my eyes were getting ready to unpack. I stopped kissing his neck, and froze, trying to contain them.

You will not cry now.

I held my breath, and shut my eyes tightly. I refused to cry, and that only made me feel worse. I wanted to break down and cry, I mean look at me. I'll go to town on any guy that pays attention to me for ten fucking minutes, I'm pitiful.

"Would you rather cuddle?" He asked gingerly, like he knew all about my conflicting emotions. Wanting to keep him, wanting to please him, and just wanting someone to care.

Inhaling sharply, I thought about my answer. If I said yes, and he wanted sex he'd resent me and just use me later. If I said no, and he didn't want sex, he'd reject me.

"Cuddling sounds fine." I nodded after a moment, moving away from Gerard. I felt embarrassed for coming on to him, and even more embarrassed for almost losing my shit. "I'm sorry." I apologized, hanging my head.

"For what? You're not ready, and that's fine." He shrugged, and wrapped his arms around me.

"I don't know if you're going to want to see me again, and I just really need someone." I stated, letting fly what I've been needing to for so long. "Not that I picked you at random, I really like you. I just want someone to care about me."

"I really like you too, so don't worry. You'll see me again, I'll be right here for you." He said, and stroked my hair gently. He smiled at me, his happy face making me feel less absolutely horrible about the past hour or so. "God your hair is soft." He snickered.

I shook my head, and rested my head against his chest, smiling absentmindedly. I brushed my hand over his arm occasionally, and listened to him breath. It was more than nice to finally be close to someone. I don't care if he was lying to me about liking me at this point. I don't care if he didn't want more than getting his dick sucked at this point. I don't care right now, I feel better than I ever have. He understood what was happening to me immediately, so I've either got the world's most obvious tell, or he knows something. None of this matters to me now, though.

I breathe in and hold the air in my lungs for a second, Gerard still petting my hair as the credits began on the television. I exhaled slowly.

_I'm finally okay_.

**A/N;**

**Longer chapter. Which is good. Hope the grammar is fine, I double checked. I've been out of it from not sleeping lately so forgive me if something doesn't make sense.  
Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. Ficwad reviews and views constantly fuck up, so please, if you read, please go to .com to tell me what you think.**

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**Seriously, thank you so much for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5: This Isn't Your Average Magic Trick **_

My neck was stiff as I woke up to the morning sun shining right in my face. I groaned quietly, and rubbed Gerard's arm that was wrapped around my midsection. His head was nestled against my hair as per usual, and he was still asleep. I smiled to myself as I felt him pull me close and let out a couple incoherent murmurs and I snuggled into the almost naked man. He always slept in just his boxers, and I keep myself bundled up in fuzzy pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt.

Six months and I still haven't been able to give myself to him. Six months and I've never even taken my shirt off to swim. I don't feel as horrible about myself, but I still don't want to embarrass myself in front of Gerard who is absolutely magnificent. Every time we're really close, and he goes for my shirt or jeans, I break down. I'm working on it, but it took about three months for breaking down to no longer include crying, so that's not really much of an improvement.

I did quit my job after admitting to Gerard what Phil was like. He refused to let me get hurt, and insisted I start work somewhere it's safe to work, and somewhere that was an actual business. After a month or two of living off my savings account, I got a job at a small retail store in the mall that sat half way between Gerard's place and mine. A couple weeks ago, he suggested I move in, because he'd really like to have me here. I accepted his invitation of course, and we moved most of my things over fairly quickly. I still have a few things to get, a paper or two to sign, and a gift for my mother to pick up.

I continued to rub Gerard's arm lightly, staring at the blinding light shining through the clear windows, and I glanced over at the fall trees wearing their colors with pride. The room was warm, but not uncomfortably so. I've been seeing things a lot differently since I've spent more time in Gerard's house than my own. I never noticed how nice this time of year was. I once again shimmied back into my artist, smiling contently once again, and tried to savor every last second of this embrace. Gerard squeezed my waist slightly.

"You're squirming." He pointed out, and poked my stomach lightly. "I take it you want to get up?"

"Mhm, it's a wonderful day." I said and broke from his grip to roll over and face him. He has the best bed head I've ever seen, if it's even possible to have good bed head. I planted a quick kiss on his lips, and beamed.

He nodded and smiled back, hugging me momentarily before getting up and pointing to the bathroom. "You shower first or me?" He asked, tilting his head.

_We can go at the same time_. I thought to myself. I hate how I get nervous and less ballsy when I really need to be. I do want to get past being this self-conscious, but I don't think that will be possible without at least trying to step out of my comfort zone. I'd just rather not embarrass myself, make him hate me, or make him realize he doesn't want me. He constantly tells me I'm beautiful, and that I've got nothing to worry about, but do I really? We'll find out.

"Both of us." I stated flatly, and I could feel my entire body getting warm.

"Huh?" He said, looking like he just found out his entire life was a dream. His eyes were big hazel plates, and his jaw hung loosely on his face, leaving his lips parted.

"Both of us in the shower at the same time." I said, my stomach flipping over and twisting into knots. I have to get past this. I want to get past this.

"Wait, wha-" He began before I strolled up to him, and lightly placed my fingers under his chin, and dragged them away from his gaping mouth gently. He shut his mouth, and retained that look of shock and total surprise.

"You gonna stand there and catch flies, or are you gonna come with me?" I grinned though my insides were screaming. I wanted this, but I was so fucking scared.

"Frank are you sure?" He asked and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?" I asked, grabbing his wrist gently and tugging him toward the bathroom with me.

"You don't have to." He continued to protest. My heart sunk a little in my chest. Maybe he didn't want me. I felt like throwing up. _God how could I be so stupid_. I need to stop coming on to him.

"Sorry." I mumbled quietly, the shame weighing my head down as I looked at the floor. I went from confident and proud of myself to a pathetic lump. If I wasn't embarrassed before, I certainly am now.

"No no no," He started, and grabbed me. He pulled me closer to him by my upper arms and tilted my chin up. "I do want to. There's no need for you to be sorry. I'm just checking, that's it babe." He said, and shortly after he spoke broke out in a smile. "God damn it, stop pouting at me like that."

I chuckled slightly, and sniffled. I'm glad I didn't cry I rested my head against his chest, smiling to myself. "I still do want that shower, though." I said, looking up at him. I had completely lost the swagger I had previously. I examined his reaction, and I could tell he wanted it too. Biting his lip slightly as he studied me back.

My neck still hurt a little, but I couldn't feel much more than want. I wanted to feel his hands all over me, and I really want to know what it's like to be close to someone like this. Well, I wanted to know what it's like to be close to Gerard like this.

Gerard led me to the bathroom, one hand faintly touching my lower back. I opened the door, and the cold floor against my unprepared toes sparked my senses to life. I looked up at the taller man, staring at his hazel eyes, trying to figure out what was going on in that head of his. He always knows exactly what's going on with me, why is it so hard the other way around?

He pecked my lips lightly, placing his hands at my sides and running them over my lower rib cage and down to my hips. I slid my hands up his chest and tried to act like I wasn't a virgin quaking in his boots. Obviously, that was the main difference between Gerard and I, and it's not even a big deal. He at least has some sexual experience, and I have next to none. I've watched enough porn to have a good idea what's going on, but that's definitely not the real thing.

Gerard pushed me closer to the tub, running his hand up my shirt and over my not so hot chest. He let out a heavy breath, and slid my shirt off. He stared at my face for a moment, assuming I was going to break down and cry. I didn't feel so ugly anymore, so I simply waited for his next move. He let out a sigh of relief, and allowed his eyes to drift further.

"Why is it you think you're ugly again?" He asked quickly, closing the gap between us momentarily to turn the shower on. "You're fucking gorgeous." He murmured, and kept me at arm's length for a moment.

"I'm not as good looking as you." I observed, latching my pointer finger around the elastic band on the waist of my boyfriend's briefs. I tugged slightly

100% unsure of myself and exactly what I was doing, I tried to call upon all of those pornos and slash fan fictions (I stumbled upon few, don't judge) that had piled up within the unused spaces in my memory. _Confidence, I need to have confidence._ I pressed my lips to his once again, lingering for a moment before moving to kiss his jaw, and nip at his upper neck lightly. His grasp on my hips tightened as his head tipped back in response to me placing a light hand over his interested member, and palming him through his underwear.

I myself had gotten turned on, but not uncomfortably so. Gerard hastily removed his underwear, revealing his perfect cock and immediately reached for the pajama pants I was still wearing. He shimmied them down as far as he could, and kissed my neck harshly.

"I want your pants off." He growled, and the kissing turned into biting and sucking.

My cheeks became flushed, and I let out a soft moan, tilting my head to the side allowing him to do what he wanted to me. I stood there paralyzed, putty in his talented hands. Gerard's exposed member pressed against my own as I finally realized how badly I wanted to be touched. His biting got harder and I heard him mutter "Off." once between bites.

I quickly slid my pajama bottoms off and kicked them away from me. I struggled getting the nerve to undress myself completely. I don't want him to spontaneously find me unattractive, laugh, and kick me out. I really like him, and I don't want to fuck this up. I gripped the elastic on my boxers, and tugged slightly. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes and arguing with the nagging voices in my head. Gerard doesn't think I'm ugly, and he won't die laughing at the sight of me naked. I chanted to myself over and over. This was becoming my mantra for daily life. I pulled them off and kept my eyes closed tight, bracing myself for whatever may have followed.

Gerard took my throbbing member in his large hand and stroked it painstakingly slowly, which gave way to a slew of incoherent words falling out of my mouth as soft high pitched moans. I glanced down at his hand going to work and I bit my lip, chewing on my piercing. Glancing at his face, I read his expression and the only word I could see was satisfaction. No one has ever done anything like this to me, and he knows it.

"Sh-shower is running." I gaped, my head falling forward onto the larger man's chest, and his stroking slowed to a complete stop. Now wasn't exactly the right time to be worried about his water bills. Gerard rested his hands on my hips, and turned me around to face the door.

"Later." He said, his voice guttural and filled with lust.

I heard the water stop running, and Gerard steered me out the door and spun me around once again, our lips crashing together in yet another fit of want. He directed me to his bed, and pushed me down to sit on the bed by my shoulders. He pushed me onto my back and straddled me. I moaned as we touched in places that lead to new sensations, and sent a wave of chills through my entire body. He grasped our firm members together, and stroked them together. He let out a hiss, rubbing us together and I let out a moan. He but his lip and a sly smile was creeping its way onto his red hot face.

"M-More, please." I whimpered.

"More what?" He snickered, leaning down at my neck and nipping at the most likely bruised skin.

"Please fuck me," I pleaded. "Please."

"And you're sure?" He pulled away, his member resting against mine. I've never felt so good in my life, I've touched myself but this was different. This was completely different.

"Positive." I nodded, air finally reaching my lungs. I closed my eyes trying to imagine what it would feel like for him to be inside me. My aching erection twitched in response to the mere thought, and I allowed my eyes to flutter open as he got up and moved away from me, my throbbing member aching for more than my mind was capable of verbalizing.

Gerard fumbled around in his night stand, and pulled out a medium size bottle half full with a clear liquid. I bit my lip, and felt the butterflies in my stomach flutter around in a fit of rage. This is what I want, but this is fairly scary. He popped the cap and only applied some of the liquid to his index and middle fingers.

"I'm going to prep you, alright?" He said, in a tone that was more like a question, inching closer to me and making constant eye contact. In his dark eyes -I saw lust, and a slight concern. I nodded my head, the words I wanted to say binding themselves up in my throat.

I scooted back so he had more room to work, and he took position between my legs. He raised my legs up gently by pushing my thighs toward my stomach. He gently massaged my thigh with the thumb on the not lubricated hand. He looked down at my body, and grinned once again. He took a moment to apply a little more lubricant to his fingers before he swept them across my entrance, causing me to jump slightly.

"Tell me when you think you're ready." He purred, gingerly pushing one digit inside me. It didn't hurt and it didn't feel uncomfortable, which was good. It felt new and a little strange but I kept myself relaxed. He bit his lip, staring at his actions. He would occasionally glance at my face for some confirmation that what he was doing was okay, and he always got exactly that.

Gerard slipped another finger inside me, eliciting a surprised moan from my lips. This was slightly more painful, and I struggled to adjust. Gerard rocked his fingers in and out, gazing up into my eyes. He began to scissor his fingers in order to help loosen me up a little more. I squirmed, my body trying to reject the new intruder, and though my tried to fight it I pushed myself back onto his fingers. Occasionally they swiped against an area that felt like it was something special. I'm assuming he's getting really close to my prostate, because even gently touches around that area are making me want more, and want more now.

"Ready." I said and stopped moving on his fingers. I grabbed the back of my knees and held them closer to my chest, staring at Gerard's amazing cock. He had never lost interest, and he was still as hard as the moment we stopped making contact.

"Are you sure?" He asked, grabbing his bottle of lubricant once again. I nodded as he poured a quite generous amount on his hard cock and went to set the bottle down someplace out of the way. Moving one of my hands from the back of my knees, I took him in my hand and stroked him, spreading the line around. He let out a whimper, and I giggled slightly.

He shot me a quick, playful glare. He crawled on top of me, and lined his tip up with my entrance, slowly pushing himself inside me. I closed my eyes tightly, pain crashing over me like waves of knives all over my body. I turned my head into the pillow and bit it to keep myself from screaming from a mixture of pleasure so amazing it had to be a sin, and an overwhelming pain that enveloped my entire being. I writhed under the man that was guilty of causing conflicting feelings all over my body.

Gerard moaned and pressed his lips to my neck. He alternated between my jaw, ear, and neck. His kisses were hot and sloppy as he pulled out slowly and pushed himself back inside. With a couple more slow gentle thrusts, he made his way closer and closer to that area until

"_Fucking fuck Gerard right there._" I moaned loudly, taking my head away from the pillow and set my hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head down to once again bring our lips together. He thrusted into that spot again –my lips falling open again, and beyond the slowly decreasing pain and discomfort the only thing I could feel was the stars I was seeing. The older man groaned as his pace picked up, his neck falling limp and his head resting beside mine. I grumbled a quiet obscenity followed by his name into his neck every time he moved, my mouth still hanging open against his skin loosely.

"You're so fucking hot Frank. You're going to make me cum in your tight ass." He breathed, the animalistic tones in his voice remaining. Him filling me up the way he did hurt for a while -but it was extremely satisfying, even before he had found my sweet spot and began his assault on every nerve and endorphin in my body. His tip continuously rocked against the mind numbingly delightful bunch of nerves inside me, and he used his free hand to rub my erection. I pushed my hips back and forth into his palm, my panting turning to moaning, and Gerard's thrusting getting slightly more frantic. "You're going to cum first." He demanded, setting his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck and biting down. He sucked on the fragile skin hard, most likely creating a hickey to go with all the others.

I had felt the warm tingling sensation begin to fall from my belly button to my lower extremities, and I wrapped my legs around him, propping myself up. I allowed myself to dig my fingers into his back, scratching at him as he pounded into my mostly adjusted entrance. The stretching was still in some ways uncomfortable, but I felt mostly the pleasure of him ramming himself into my prostate. I enjoyed the feeling of being comfortably full, and I really enjoyed the fact that I was giving Gerard the same intense feelings he was giving to me.

I felt my orgasm rising to its peak, and I could feel myself about to explode, my moans reaching almost feminine pitches as he eased me into climax.

"C-Close Gerard." I breathed. "S-So close. So fucking close."

"Please cum for me..." He said, looking me in the eyes and grinning -obviously satisfied with his ability to do this to me, and the fact he was the first person to have done this to me.

That was the final straw for what little self-control I had left and I came on both of our chest. My eyes had shut tightly and I whimpered his name as I came, my muscles tightening around my artist. The pleasure from the initial release was brief, and so intense I could've wept. He thrusted a few more times, before my eyelids rose to see the sight of Gerard rolling his head back and his lips forming a soft 'o' shape. He let out a silent scream before I felt him peaking deep and hot inside me.

He collapsed on top of me, and the next half hour was a chorus of sweet, uncontrollable ah's and heavy breathing. He pulled me close to him, his still partially hard member resting against mine. He pressed his lips against the top of my head, holding me protectively. I snuggled into his warm body, making myself at home against him.

"You're so messy Frankie..." Gerard said finally, pressing his lips to my forehead. "It's a good thing I made you wait for that shower."

I nodded slightly, closing my eyes. I was completely content to stay in his arms forever. It wasn't long before I noticed how safe and confident he made me feel about myself. Lying in the afterglow of my first time left me feeling a lot better about how I look.

**-****XOX****-**

The phone began to rang softly and Gerard reached over to pick it up, me still firmly locked under his right arm. I snuggled into him and groaned quietly.

"Hello, Gerard Way speaking." He announced into the phone after clearing his throat. "Oh, hi." He said as a surprised look washed over his face. "Yes, Frank is here, do you want to talk to him?" He looked down at me and mouthed the name Ryan. I moved away from his side slightly and propped myself up on my elbow. "Okay, I'm passing the phone over."

"Frank Iero speaking." I stated though I knew who was on the phone.

"It's Ryan, your mother has taken a turn for the worse. She wants you to visit." His tone was cold, apathetic and my head was already spinning.

"S-Since when?!" I demanded, springing out of the bed.

"She's been feeling under the weather for a few weeks, we took her to the hospital a few nights ago, and they told us an hour ago that she's got about a week left."

"I-Is it just me or don't you sound too fucking concerned?!" I barked, my emotions running wild. My heart felt like it was on fire and my eyes were welling up with tears.

"Frank, I've got no time to argue with you, especially when you act like a child. Come visit your mother for her sake, she misses you. If you bring your stupid boyfriend I'll be leaving." He sighed and hung up on me.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, and threw it. Who the fuck was he? Why the fuck doesn't he care about my mom? Why is my mom suddenly so bad? I wouldn't have known Gerard was behind me if he wouldn't have placed a light hand on my shoulder. "Frankie." He cooed softly, rubbing my shoulders with his thumbs.

"My mom is g-going to die." I said quietly, no longer holding back tears. I turned around and threw my arms around him, already crying so hard my chest was heaving.

"Frankie, she'll be fine." He purred, running his fingers through my hair. "Let's just get to the hospital and visit her, okay?"

"Sh-She's only got a week." I whined, crying against his shirt. "You can't tell me she'll be okay. You're not a doctor."

"There's something I can do, but I need you to get me to your mom before something bad happens." He said, pulling me away from his chest lightly and trying to make eye contact. "Please trust me."

"What're you going to do?" I said, wiping my face. Why the fuck am I believing him, what _is_ he even supposed to do?

"You're going to have to see it." He said, obviously struggling with whatever this was. I nodded and stepped away from him to find my shoes.

**-XO-**

We entered my mother's room some time later, and without a word, Ryan glared and left upon seeing Gerard accompanying me. I didn't have time to even look at my surroundings before my eyes darted to the hospital bed.

"M-Mom." I whimpered and took two quick large steps to her side. She was sleeping peacefully, just like I'd seen her sleep so many times on the couch. Gerard came into my view when he went around to the left of my mom, and took her hand.

"What are y-" I started before he cut me off.

"_Don't. Freak. Out._" He said, emphasizing every word he spoke.

"What are you d-" I got out once again before Gerard stopped me.

"Just be quiet, Frank. I need to concentrate." He snapped slightly. His face revealed some worry, and a shadow of doubt. I stared at him, waiting for him to do whatever it was he said he could do.

He closed his eyes, and took a very deep breath. Upon releasing said breath, a bright yellow tinted glow appeared along his veins. This instantly caught my attention as it moved down his upper arm to his forearm, and then began to move from his tiger tips to my mother's veins.

Was I drugged? Am I dreaming all this? This shit isn't possible.

Just before I thought this couldn't get any stranger, it did. The white light was slow moving and it seemed very thorough. I glanced back up at Gerard's face, which was serene in all of this nonsense. I wanted desperately to tell him to stop, and that all of this confused and almost scared me. I knew what he was doing was okay, though. I trust him. He is different.

Suddenly there was a quiet hissing noise and it wasn't coming from me, or Gerard. I looked down at my mother, just to see a black mist rising from her skin. I took a step back in fear of what this was, and Gerard simply placed a thumb on my mom's forehead. His focus was unbreakable as the mist began to accumulate around his hands, and quickly got sucked into Gerard. Or it had dissipated. Or something, I'm not even quite sure what just happened.

"Frankie, are you okay?" Gerard asked after a moment and approached me. My eyes widened as he did so, and he went to place a hand on my arm. I flinched and pulled away, still looking shocked. "Let me explain, please?" He begged.

"Th-That's not- What the fuck was that?" I asked, and took half a step away from him.

"I'd like to discuss this in a more private setting." He urged quietly.

"That's not possible. What the fuck did you even do?" I asked, still suffering from disbelief.

Gerard sighed, and shook his head. "This sounds crazy -and it is to a degree, but it's still true." He paused and breathed a few times before saying anything. "I am a host to a God, making me a God to a certain extent." He said, and shrugged clumsily.

**A/N;**

**I proof read like 17 times if there are any mistakes, I'm sorry.**

**Please review, I LOVE feedback. Rate if you'd like.**

**Thank you so much for reading -heart-**


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